The bathtub

It is raining, the drops falling off the house in an unsteady but fearsome pitter patter. Loud. And obnoxious. He taps his fingers on his wooden desk, uncertainly, following some rhythm.

He had loved her with all his heart. Not at first, oh no, not at first. They had an arranged marriage, and what that meant for them was they wouldn’t see each other much until after they signed the paper and said their vows.

 It was a flood, a deluge.

He loved the monsoon, and she loved the monsoon. In some weird way, that made her worthy of love in his eyes. Not many people loved the rain, and he failed to understand why. ‘You’ll get wet, but you do when you are showing anyways. What is the big deal?’

As if a sign of God’s anger, of His wrath. Or was it His sadness at seeing the state of the world.

She was not religious. She did not need to be. He was not religious either. His religion was in excellence. Hers was, well he didn’t know that yet. But she radiated noor, holy light, she was beautiful, and to him she was the most beautiful person he had ever met. When he first saw her, she was shy, and meek, bringing samosas. But there was a twinkle in her eyes, one that signified her everlasting mischief, and he loved that about her. 

The rain continued. Thundered. Lightening screamed.

He hadn’t loved her exactly, but he had respected her. She was her own person. She was not clinging to him; she was not overly attached to him. She had her own life, she was happy with it, and she knew how to say no. she was whole, and she was complete.

It seemed to lessen, and he felt rays of sunlight trying to penetrate through his thick curtains. It was so dark that even the weakest light, which that was, would be able to brighten it a bit.

He had respected her, and that was enough. They shared similar values, and that was what made their marriage work, and in time turned into love. Not the love of today, the lust confused for passion, the passion that ends as soon as it comes, in a glance. But actual love, love that stands the test of time. That came with values. And they shared those values.

 As soon as his tears started to drop from his face, the rain started again.

And then he got the call. He only heard some of the words… “Hospital… Your wife… car… accident-“ the phone had dropped from his hands, and he had rushed to the hospital driving as recklessly as the man that had crashed into his wife. He could do nothing, when he arrived, he saw her breathe her last, and die, before he even entered the room. It was like watching your plane leaving right as you reached the gate.

He went upstairs, turned on the tab to the bathtub, and drowned himself.